The Thing With Fangs

Happy.

You called me happy, constant laughs.

You, with your strife eyes, smiled and said that was all I did.

I didn't know what to say, so I laughed and looked down.

Strife eyes are clouded eyes, I know. I understand.

You cannot see past your own clouds,

can't see the clouds swirling behind my smile.

You don't understand that if I stopped laughing even for a moment,

I would start to cry.

And nobody wants to know sadness, constant tears.